A CHRIStmas Carol
by 1000GreenSun
Summary: Co-written by Kelsica2! This is the classic Christmas story, TDI style, starring Chris Maclean... Mean old Maclean is shown the true meaning of Christmas by 3 Christmas Ghosts. Chris-centric. Merry CHRIStmas, everyone! COMPLETE
1. Stave I: Marley's Ghost

**Disclaimer:** Don't own TDI/TDA/TDTM

**Author's Note: **So, this is the classic Christmas tale, TDI style with Chris Maclean as Scrooge. This is pretty special because me and my buddy, Kelsica2, wrote this together.... I wrote the first half of this chapter and she wrote the second half, so don't forget to give her credit too!

Hope you all enjoy! Happy Holidays!

--

Hatchet was dead; there was no doubt in anyone's mind about it. He had died a slow, horrible death that most say he had deserved. But even after he was gone, his business partner, Chris Maclean, curiously never painted out his name on their firm's sign. Still after seven years, the sign read 'Maclean and Hatchet', which confused those who weren't aware of Hatchet's demise.

Maclean was the richest man in town. His wealth was simply unimaginable to the average man. Some say he bathed in gold, to which others reply he was too greedy to do. When Chris was younger, he was quite the celebrity, but as he had aged, his arrogant and sadistic ways grew worse. And what job could be more fitting for the cruelest man in town than to be an investment banker. Loan shark, most referred to him as.

Over the years, Chris stopped caring about others. He almost got joy out of seeing the poor suffer. Chris was so self-absorbed that nothing could faze him. The only thing worse than his ego was his greed. That and his hate of Christmas.

And today was Christmas Eve.

"'Ello!" a skinny redheaded man with green-tint glasses greeted as he stepped into Chris's office, "My name's Harold. And who might I have the pleasure of speaking to? Mr. Hatchet or Mr. Maclean?" he asked.

"Excuuuuuse me?" Chris asked, not looking up from his mirror

"Are you Mr. Hatchet or Mr. Maclean?" Harold repeated.

"Hatchet?" Chris looked up from his reflection. "Hatchet died! Seven years ago on this very day!" Chris said ominously. He looked irritated, "Who let you in?" Chris snapped.

"Dear old Mr. Crachit, of course!" Harold replied, jolly.

"TRENT!" Chris bellowed. In a flash, a tall man with dark hair appeared. His nose was red with cold and he sniffled. His cheeks too, were flushed as he pulled the white comforter around him closer.

"Trent, dude… What is up?" Chris asked, irritated. "I don't pay you squat to sit there and freeze your frickin' butt off!"

"Sir, you hardly pay me at all," Trent replied, shivering.

"And that's the way it'll stay if you keep letting these creeps in!" Chris growled.

"Fine men, if I may," Harold interrupted, "It's mighty cold in here. May we put a few coals in your dying fire?"

Chris laughed, "And waste precious money on heat? Ahahaha!" His countenance turned angry, "No."

Trent's teeth started to chatter, so he placed his freezing hand over them.

"Whatever," Chris shook his head, "Can I help you?" he asked Harold impatiently.

"Oh, yes. We're taking donations-"

Harold was promptly thrown out at the mention of the D-Word.

"Sir, may I-" Trent was interrupted by Chris.

"Nah… Go back to work!" Chris snapped. He returned to his mirror.

Not even a few minutes had passed before Chris received another visitor.

"Uncle!" a jolly voice cried out. A large, tubby, blond man walked into Chris's office. He was loaded down with gift bags and fruitcake.

"Not again," Chris muttered.

"Aren't happy to see me, Uncle Chris?" he asked, taking off his scarf and rubbing his hands together.

"Nope. Go away, Owen," Chris said, not really caring.

"Aww, does somebody need a hug?" Owen asked excitedly as he opened up his arms.

"Yeah… No," Chris narrowed his eyes at Owen.

"Yeah… Didn't think so," Owen sighed. It didn't last long, however, until his ruddy complexion lit up again. "Anyways, I bet you're wondering why I'm here!" he said, in a sing-song voice.

"You've come to irritate the heck of out me?" Chris replied.

"Mmm… Close!" Owen chuckled, "Actually, I came to invite you to mine and Izzy's annual Christmas dinner! Cool, huh?"

Chris groaned, "I hate Christmas. You know that, Owen."

"Aww, Uncle Chris! Don't say that!" Owen cried. "Christmas is the best!"

Chris let out a dry laugh, "Maybe it warms the hearts of you morons, but not mine! Christmas time is nothing but lost profits!"

Owen was about to reply to his uncle's heartless statement, but was interrupted by Trent walking in.

"Mr. Maclean. Two young ladies are here to see you," Trent said through his chattering teeth.

"Uncle Chris, would it kill you to warm this place up?" Owen whined, feeling cold just seeing Trent Crachit's condition.

"Yes, yes it would," Chris replied to his nephew. He turned towards Trent. "This better be good," he muttered.

"Good afternoon!" one of the girls chirped cheerfully. "We're with the Family Christmas Foundation!"

"Not again," Chris hit his head on the desk. He gave in, "Fine. Humor me."

"We're taking donations!" the other girl, bundled up in bright pink, added.

"And I care… because?" Chris asked, impatiently.

"Because it's charity!" the first girl answered.

"Sadie's totally right! We can help all the poor people and their families get a great Christmas this year!" the second girl answered.

"EEEE!! Katie, you're so sweet," Sadie giggled.

"I know," Katie giggled.

"Anyways," Katie and Sadie said at the same time.

"It'd mean a lot for a lot of people if you gave a donation," Sadie said.

"Don't you want to brighten up the Christmases of the needy?" Katie asked hopefully.

"Lemme think about that," Chris looked up in mock though. "No."

"Aww!" Katie and Sadie cried at the same time.

"But it's Christmas!" Owen added.

"Bah," Chris spat. "Humbug."

Katie and Sadie walked away dejectedly, muttering 'Scrooge' under their breath.

"And Owen," Chris looked at his nephew, "Go away."

"Not until you come to my party!" Owen said joyfully.

"I'll see you in _hell _before I see you at your stupid party," Chris spat.

"Those girls are right, Uncle Chris," Owen said tearfully, "You are a Scrooge!"

"Bah Humbug," Chris replied.

And with that, Owen gathered his things and walked away.

Soon, the sun set and closing time dawned upon them. Chris was gathering his things, before heading out like always, but today, Trent mustered up enough courage to approach his cold-hearted boss.

"What do you want?" Chris asked.

"Well, sir," Trent started, pulling his white blanket in closer. "Tomorrow's Christmas!"

"And…?" Chris drawled. "I suppose you want the day off?"

"If it's not too much to ask," Trent said meekly. "It really would mean a lot," he added.

Chris sighed, grimaced, then gave in, "Fine. I hope you realize I'm losing a day of profits for your little fancies."

Trent lit up, "Oh! Mr. Maclean, thank you! Thank you so much!"

"I suppose," Chris sighed. "Just be here all the earlier the next morning!"

"Of course! Of course! Thank you!" Trent exclaimed. "You won't regret it! Thank you, sir!" he said, gratefully.

--

Chris locked the building up and walked up to his swanky silver car. He hopped in a drove off, in the most sour mood he could ever remember himself having. "I can't believe I let that buffoon take he day off tomorrow," Chris mumbled, running a red light.

Several cars honked at him and gave him rather crude hand gestures, but Chris barely noticed, and he surely didn't care.

He pulled into his driveway, taking notice of the dozen cars in front of his next door neighbor's house.

"Great," Chris groaned. "Must be a freaking Christmas party…"

The harsh wind nipped at Chris' skin as he made his way toward the entrance to his huge house. He looked at the door, said, "Hi, Chef," and looked in his pocket for his keys. After thinking it over, he gasped and did a double-take. There was nothing on the door but the doorknocker.

The doorknocker had been in the same place he could have sworn he saw his deceased business partner's head…

Once inside, he flung his coat and scarf onto the couch and made his way to the kitchen. A table full of the finest foods he could imagine were waiting for him, still so warm it was like every entrée had just been freshly cooked. Chris had a professional cook come in a few hours before to prepare this for him. And he or she was luckily gone, just like every night before this.

The amazing feast wasn't on account of Christmas, of course. This was how Chris McLean ate every night. When you've got as much money as he does, you would too, right?

--

After finishing his meal, he left the dishes on the table for the maid to clean up later. He had better things to do than clean up after himself...

Next door, his neighbor's Christmas party was still going strong. The music and laughter was faint but it still annoyed Chris him to no end. Why it did, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to stand by and let somebody with less money and power annoy him

Chris opened his window and yelled, "Hey! Shut up over there!"

His neighbor poked his head out the open window of his house and yelled back, "You shut up, you scrooge! It's a Christmas party!"

Oh well. You can't say he didn't try.

"Bah humbug," he muttered under his breath, shutting the window and walking away. "Christmas. What a waste of time." He huffed and headed over to his bedroom. Maybe the farther away he got from the blasted Christmas cheer, the better.

--

By the time Chris had gotten ready for bed, the party had ended. That meant he could sleep in peace. He needed his nine hours of beauty sleep, after all.

"Nothing else better bother me," Chris grumbled, flipping the blankets aside. "Nothing Christmas-like, at least… I don't get the big deal. A bunch of gifts… Stupid food… Bah humbug…"

He settled into his huge bed, shutting his eyes. After a few seconds, he heard the rattling of chains.

"Ugh, I thought that guy was done," Chris groaned, hopping out of bed and storming over to the open window. "Hey, Phil!" he yelled. "Enough with the racket over there!"

However, Phil's lights were all off and here was not a sound coming from his house.

"Huh. Weird." Chris turned around to head back to bed, but saw a familiar guy floating over it.

He shrieked like a little girl and jumped on top of the wardrobe, shaking like a leaf .

"Ch-Ch-_Chef_?" Chris stuttered in disbelief.

The ghostly figure was indeed the spirit of Chef Hatchet. He had a certain greenish glow to him and his ripped suit only added to his creepy appearance. His entire body was covered in heavy chains, making him rattle every time he made even the tiniest movement.

He drifted over to Chris and knocked his off the wardrobe. "Yeah, it's me! Who'd you think I was, the Easter Bunny?!"

Chris stood up, rubbing his head where he landed on it. "But that's not possible. You died years ago!"

"I'm a _ghost_!" Chef yelled like it was obvious.

"Wait a sec. If you're a ghost, which I'm not really buying," Chris started, "then how'd you knock me off of there?"

"Just because I'm a ghost doesn't mean I can't smack the crap out of you like I used to!" Chef barked, making Chris cringe in fright. "Now shut your pie hole so I can tell you what I came here to tell you!"

Chris shut his trap, sinking down to the ground from shaking so hard. This couldn't be Chef. It couldn't. There was no such thing as ghosts. There couldn't be. Still, even the thought of having a dead spirit in his bedroom scared the living daylights out of Chris.

"I came here to warn you," Chef said with a swift movement of his arms, making his chains rattle wildly. "My greed cost me a lot more than just my life. Because of how selfish I was, I'm forever bound to wander the earth, bound by these chains. I've come to prevent you from this same fate."

Chris merely blinked in response.

Chef frowned and barked, "I was a big, fat jerk and if you don't stop being such a scrooge, you're gonna be chained up just like I am and we're gonna be backpackin' 'round the world for all eternity!"

Chris shakily got up, using the wall to support himself. That did sound like a horrible fate, but he was still really unsure about the whole ghost concept

"Three spirits will visit you tonight," Chef explained, holding up three fingers. "They will take you and show you the error of your ways."

"Um…" Chris tapped his chin. "Can we, uh, reschedule that? I have a big meeting coming up." He pulled an agenda book out of nowhere and leafed through it. "Does January 8th, 2074 work for you and your friends?"

"NO!!" Chef bellowed, making the handsome miser drop his planner and shrink back in fear. "You have to get this lesson through your thick skull _tonight_!"

"Why are you even helping me?" Chris questioned. "You didn't even like me that much when you were living… This must be a trick." Chris craned his neck to look around the room. "Where's the projector? Where's the camera? I'm being punked, aren't I?"

"Who would try to pull a prank on you?" Chef asked. "You don't have any friends and everybody you know is too afraid of you to even try…"

He shrugged. "Good point."

"Look, I'm just trying to keep you from having this sort of afterlife and being weighed down by these chains," Chef explained, holding up his chain covered arms as proof. "Look at these things! They've totally messed up my back!"

"I must have had too much wine tonight," Chris muttered, shaking his head. "There's no way this is happening…"

Chef frowned deeply. "You always were a stubborn one, McClean… Anyway, you will be visited by three spirits. The Ghost of Christmas Past, The Ghost of Christmas Present, and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come."

"What kind of names are those?" Chris asked with a scoff. "Their folks must have been hippie freaks or something."

"Those aren't their actual names, fool! Those are just their titles!"

"Then what are their real names? I'll bet they're stupid, too," Chris said.

"How the heck should I know!" Chef exclaimed. "I don't actually work with them! I got them from some agency!"

"A ghost agency?" Chris questioned skeptically. "Their business must be horrible. It's not like they could have a lot of clients."

Chef groaned, rolling his eyes. "Look, their names aren't important. It's where they take you and what they show you that really matters."

"And where are they taking me?"

"Did you not hear me tell you their titles?! Where do you think they're gonna take you?"

Chris paled even more than he had before. "You mean… They're going to take me to the past… And the future?"

Chef nodded and added, "Not just _the_ past and future. _Your_ past and future."

"So what's the Present guy going to take me?" Chris looked around. "Here?"

"Oh, you'll see…"

Chris looked at the semi-transparent spirit and crossed his arms, trying his best not to look afraid. "I still say there is no such thing as ghosts. Only ugly poor people would buy the crap you're telling me."

"If you don't believe me, you'll believe when you see the weirdoes who'll visit you later. You'd better be a changed man by tomorrow morning! If not, I'll come back and slap some sense into your pretty boy head!" he exclaimed while shaking his fist, making his chains clang and rattle.

"Bah humbug," Chris huffed with a pout.

"And stop saying that!" Chef yelled. "It makes you sound stupider than you usually do!" He drifted closer to the window and said, "If you'll excuse me, I have places to be and other rich snobs to knock some sense into."

"Wait, you can't leave yet!" Chris exclaimed. "I still don't understand why-"

Chris never got to finish his statement. With a huge gush of wind, Chef was out the window and gone in a flash.

--

Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave a review!

Next up-** Stave II: The First of the Three Spirits**


	2. Stave II: The First of the Three Spirits

Disclaimer: Don't and won't.

Author's Note: This chapter is written by me, with creative input by Kelsica2! Hope you like it! And thanks for the reviews all! :)

--

That night, Chris didn't sleep a wink. His mind was a frenzy, thinking about Hatchet's words. The rational side of him argued that ghosts didn't exist. They weren't real. _But that was the realest ghost I've ever seen... _he thought. Chris shook his head, trying to shake off that experience, but he simply couldn't. His thoughts consumed him and before he realized it, the city bell had tolled.

A single 'ding', signaling that it was one-o-clock.

Chris gulped as his tanned complexion turned white. He held his blanket close to him, covering himself up similar to the way a child would. A breeze flew in through the bedroom window, causing Chris to jump, hiding deeper in his blankets.

"_What _are you doing?" a bored voice asked.

Chris jumped through the ceiling, hearing this unfamiliar voice.

"Will you get down from there?" the same voice asked. "I have another appointment at two. I can't be late, you know."

Chris meekly took a peek at the being. He was a ghost, definitely. But he wasn't very tall, nor was he wide-built. Rather lanky and almost child-like. His brown hair was mostly covered with a sleeping cap which matched his nightgown. In one hand was a burning candle, in the other a book.

Chris scoffed, "Who are you?" he asked, expecting a scarier ghost.

The semi-transparent boy gave a dry laugh, "Your mother," he answered flatly. "No... I am **The Ghost of Christmas Past**!" he bellowed, causing Chris to cringe. "But... Call me Noah, if you must."

"You don't have to talk so loud, dude," Chris replied. He looked from side to side, shiftily, "I got an idea... If you pretend to do whatever you have to do, but don't really do it, there might be some hairgel in for you..." he suggested.

"Tempting," Noah said sarcastically, "But I'll have to decline."

"Fine, fine," Chris pouted. He sighed, "Show me the what the world will be like if I was never born and get your wings or whatever. I don't care."

"Wrong story, Einstein," Noah replied. "And hello? **Ghost of Christmas Past**? Does that not mean anything to you?" he ranted, "Anyways," Noah continued, "Can we move on? I have a lot to do tonight."

"Whatever."

--

"Remember this, Chris?" Noah asked.

The two were currently in one of Chris's oldest Christmas memories.

Chris was but a young boy in this, not more than six or seven years of age. He was sitting by himself, reading a book. He was at an empty boarding house, spending Christmas alone, because he was the only boy who couldn't return home for the holidays. Soft, muffled cries could be heard from the lonely young boy.

Chris sniffled, trying not to cry, "Yeah," he replied to Noah, his voice breaking.

"This is how Christmas went every year, huh?" Noah asked. "You were all alone..."

Chris didn't reply, he simply watched on as his younger self suffered. Chris reached out to pat himself on the back, but Noah held him back.

"Don't bother. He can't see us. We basically ghosts to him," Noah told Chris.

Chris pulled back, not really sure what to do, "Can we go now?" he asked, sadly.

"Nope. Not yet," Noah replied. "We're not done here," he pointed to younger Chris, "Look."

He had gotten up, leaving his book on the floor. He walked over to the other boys' rooms and entered. Aged Chris and Noah closely followed. Young Chris opened up a giant toy box and pulled out the action figures. Angrily, he tore them apart, throwing the pieces all over the room.

"Why!?" the child cried, "Why does everyone _hate_ me!?" he sobbed. "Why am I all alone!?" he ripped an doll in half. He dried up his tears as his face hardened, "Well.... I hate everybody else! And I'll make their lives miserable! That'll show people! That'll show everyone!!" he yelled, grinning, satisfied with himself. He looked at the room, covered in broken doll parts. "I _like_ being mean...." he laughed.

"Whoa," Noah said, shocked, "No wonder you're so messed up right now..."

Chris sniffled, "I was so proud of myself..." he smiled, happily, tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Oooookaaaaay..." Noah said slowly. "Moving on..."

--

Chris and Noah had traveled to a memory where Chris was a little older.

This time, Younger Chris was outside a house, waiting for someone to let him in. Suddenly, a little girl opened up the door and jumped into Chris's arms.

"Big brother! Big brother!" the little girl came exclaimed, "You came home! I knew you would. I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Bridgette," the younger Chris embraced his sister.

"Father's much kinder now, you know," Bridgette said when Chris put her down. "He's letting you come home," she said, happily.

The older Chris gave a sad smile, remembering his little sister and the rocky relationship he had with his father.

"Boring," Noah yawned.

"Shh!" Older Chris hushed him.

"He'll be sooo happy to see you," little Bridgette continued, "We'll finally be a family..."

Chris sniffled, his eyes puffy, "Bridgette was such an innocent soul... She died a long time ago..." Aged Chris said grimly, "The only thing I have left of her is my nephew, Owen."

"Touching," Noah replied sarcastically.

--

"Perhaps a merrier memory?" Noah suggested.

"Merrier?" Chris spat, "Christmas is never merry. Not for me."

"Oh?" Noah asked. "What about this one?"

Chris couldn't help but smile, immediately recognizing the surroundings. He spotted his younger self sipping some eggnog at a Christmas party. "Geoff Fezziwig's? He threw the meanest parties..." Chris reminisced. "Everything I know I learned from that guy..."

"DUUUUUUUUDE!" a older, slightly wrinkled man high-fived the younger Chris.

"Duuuuuude!" younger Chris replied. "Awesome party, Geoff!"

"Thanks," Geoff nodded. He smiled, "Can't believe you're done with the apprenticeship already..."

Older Chris smiled, "These were the best years.... I was so free... I could do anything..."

"You didn't even hate Christmas," Noah added. Chris turned away. He looked back at the scene.

_"_These years have been the best. Thank you, Geoff," the younger Chris thanked.

"I'll miss you, man," Geoff patted Chris on the back. "You've learned well."

"Thanks, dude," Chris replied. Geoff smiled in response. "I couldn't have asked for a better mentor."

"I couldn't have asked for a better trainee," Geoff reciprocated. "Been enjoying the party?"

"You know it!" Chris exclaimed.

"Good," Geoff nodded, "Merry Christmas, dude."

"Merry Christmas, Geoff."

"That was the best Christmas of your life, huh?" Noah asked.

"Yeah..." Chris replied, still smiling.

"That's really sad," Noah said flatly.

Chris looked irritated, "How much longer am I stuck with you?"

"Only one more memory. Thank god," Noah answered.

--

"No..." Chris whispered. "Anything but this..."

Noah shrugged, "Hey, I don't make up the rules. But this looks interesting," Noah chuckled. He snapped his fingers and a bucket of popcorn showed up.

"You can do that?" Chris asked, eyes wide.

Noah scoffed, "What _can't _I do? Now stop asking questions. Pay attention!"

Older Chris just looked on, painfully knowing what he was about to relive.

"Chris... I can't do this anymore," a young, pretty, brunette girl told a twenty-something Chris. It was Christmas Eve, they were ready to get married the next week. Everything seemed perfect, but in truth, nothing was.

Chris softened, "Lena, no... I'm sorry. Give me another chance," he whispered. He put her hands in his own and looked into her big green eyes.

Lena turned away, "I-I can't, Chris."

"Pleeeease?" Younger Chris pleaded. "I didn't mean that! None of those girls meant anything!"

Lena turned back towards him and smiled sympathetically, "Chris... It's not the other girls. They could never make me stop loving you..."

"Then why are you leaving?" Chris asked, his voice quivering.

"Because," Lena started crying, "Because greed, arrogance and sadism have corrupted the love that used to impassion your heart."

"...What?"

"You're a big meanie, Chris. And I can't keep being with you," Lena sobbed.

"Lena... Don't go," Chris let his tears fall.

"I have to," Lena said softly. "I'll never stop loving you -the old you-," she kissed him softly. Lena pulled away, slipped the diamond ring off her finger and placed it in his hand.

Younger Chris couldn't muster up words. He was so frozen in shock and heartbreak, that he couldn't stop her when she walked away.

Now, older Chris was sobbing. He couldn't hold in his tears or sadness. He couldn't bear thinking about this memory or any of the other ones he had seen tonight. He had to get out of here.

Even Noah, the phantom, had tears in his eyes, "Worst Christmas ever, huh?"

Chris meekly shook his head, "Take me home, spirit. I can't be here any longer."

"Yeah, yeah," Noah replied, back to normal. "I hope you learned something."

"Yup," Chris nodded slowly, his eyes glazed over. "I _HATE _Christmas! Even more than before!!" he exclaimed angrily.

Noah sighed and shrugged, "At least I tried. It's up to the next guy."

--

Suddenly, Chris was back home, tucked into bed, ready to be visited by the next ghost.

--

Please leave a review!

Next up- **Stave III: The Second of the Three Spirits**


	3. Stave III: The Second of the 3 Spirits

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything :)

Author's Note: Kelsica2 wrote this chappie with creative input from moi. Enjoy!

--

Chris laid his head back down on his pillow. He was too afraid to even shut his eyes, but he could at least rest himself a bit before the next ghost arrived. Sure, the first ghost hadn't looked like much of a threat, but who knows what the second ghost would be like? And that same fear applied to the third ghost.

And what Noah had shown him… It really struck some hidden nerves. All the stuff he showed him was all the stuff he had tried to forget. All the feelings of remorse and sadness he had tried to hide over the years.

His thoughts were interrupted by the double chiming of the clock. It was two in the morning.

A burst of wind flew through his bedroom window and Chris shut his eyes, pulling the blanket closer to him to keep himself warm.

After he heard the sound of the wind fade, he opened his eyes to find the next ghost floating by the window.

He was a rather big guy and he looked like a friendly spirit, with the big, cheerful grin that was on his face. He was decked out in a flowing forest green robe with furry trim as white as the snow that was falling outside.

"I'm guessing you're the Ghost of Christmas Present?" Chris asked as he hopped out of bed, no longer scared. This ghost looked like he wouldn't hurt a fly.

"No need to be so formal," the kind ghost said. "You can call me DJ. And this is Bunny," DJ motioned to the rabbit on his shoulder.

"So… I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and guess that being the Ghost of Christmas _Present _doesn't mean you're going to give me free stuff?" Chris said with a tinge of hope in his voice.

DJ slightly frowned. "No. Sorry."

Chris groaned. "Of course. It's not like I needed anything to make my night a little less suckish or anything."

"Can I please continue?" DJ asked. "Anyway, I'm here to show you how a certain family is spending their Christmas. This is a family that truly understands the meaning of the holiday season and they appreciate what they have."

Chris frowned deeply. "And I thought the first trip sucked…"

"Let's get going," DJ said, motioning for him to come closer. "I have to be someplace after we're done."

Chris' brows furrowed. "You guys sure are busy tonight…"

--

With a flash, they appeared inside an average looking house.

"Why the heck are we at this dump?" Chris asked. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Just wait and see," DJ told him.

Chris took a look around the small house. It was not anything to brag about, that's for sure. Still, whoever lived there had tried to make the place look as festive as possible with a few wreaths here and there and a scraggly looking Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

Suddenly, the front door opened and in walked a man who Chris was very familiar with.

"Trent Crachit?" Chris eyed DJ and asked, "You dragged me all the way out here to see _this_ guy? If I cared about what was going on with _him_, I'd actually talk to him. But I don't!"

"Please stop arguing," DJ politely asked. "You haven't seen what you need to see yet."

"Todd? Oops, I mean Trent?"

A beautiful blonde woman was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She had on clothes that were hardly up to the standards of a woman of her looks, but that didn't take away from her overall beauty. Her bright blue eyes glistened a little more once she saw her husband. "Hi, Trent!" She sat the small bowl full of mashed potatoes she had been holding down and walked over to him.

"Whoa," Chris gasped upon seeing her. "She's hot."

"Hey, that's not why I brought you here!" DJ whined, trying to avert Chris' eyes from Trent's wife.

"Why's she wearing those frumpy clothes?" he asked, pushing away the hand DJ tried to put over his eyes. "A super fox like that should be wearing something better than those rags."

DJ stopped fighting him and said, "Well, you don't really pay Trent a lot, Chris. He can't buy his wife top of the line threads like you could. He has five children to support, too."

"What? Since when does he have kids?"

"He's been working for you for years and you never even knew he had children?" DJ asked, dumbfounded. "He has a bunch of pictures of them on his desk at work."

Chris scoffed, crossing his arms. "I have better things to do than look at his knick-knacks!"

After removing his coat and scarf, Trent grinned and embraced her in a big hug. "Hey, Lindsay. How's dinner coming along?"

Lindsay's eyes got a little less bright. "Well, it's as good as it's going to get, I suppose. I guess we're just blessed we have as much as we do."

"Well, it looks like you cooked a delicious goose," Trent complimented, looking down at the cooked bird. "I don't think there's ever been one made as tender as this one."

Lindsay laughed and hugged him tighter. "Trent, you're such a sweetheart!"

"Gimme that back, eh!" a voice from the kitchen yelled.

"No way, man! I'm older, so I get first dibs on the gravy!" a different voice from the same area yelled. As they continued to argue, slapping sounds could be heard.

Lindsay separated form Trent and placed her hands on her hips. "Tyrone, Ebenezer, stop fighting and help me carry the food in here! You'll both get your gravy when it's time for dinner."

Two brunet teenagers in slightly ragged clothing walked in, the taller one carrying a gravy boat and the shorter one holding a pitiful bowl of stuffing.

"Mom, my name's Tyler," the taller son told his mother, placing the gravy next to the mashed potatoes.

"And I'm still Ezekiel, eh," the shorter one told her, setting the stuffing down.

"Right, sorry," Lindsay said with a blush. "I guess preparing all this food has made me a little scatter-brained."

"That doesn't explain why you had to ask us all our names while registering us for school last fall," a feminine voice called out from the kitchen. A slender girl with teal and black hair emerged from the doorway, holding a platter with various vegetables on it.

As she sat it in the middle of the table, Trent dryly laughed with a smirk. "Ha ha. You're a regular comedian, Gwen. Stop poking fun at your mother and go get your brother and sister."

Gwen grabbed Ezekiel and Tyler by their upper arms, making them both flinch in pain. "Here's my brother," she said, pushing Ezekiel toward her father. "And here's my sister," she added as she shoved Tyler toward him, who glared at her.

"Somebody's in a sarcastic mood today," Trent said with a small laugh. "Gwen, you knew what I meant. _Please_ go get Beth and Cody."

"Fine," Gwen sighed with a roll of her eyes. She headed down the hall to get the two.

Trent, Lindsay, Tyler and Ezekiel took their seats at the table, waiting for the others. Gwen and Beth made their way slowly down the hall, helping their brother Cody walk.

"What's wrong with the scrawny kid?" Chris asked DJ, pointing to Cody.

"That's Tiny Cody," DJ explained. "He's got a lot of problems, but the Crachits can't afford to get him medical help."

"Why not?" Chris asked.

DJ looked at him skeptically. "You barely pay Trent enough to give his family food and shelter. They just can't afford it with their financial situation."

Chris took a look at the poor boy. Chris could tell that Cody seemed a bit reluctant to having his sisters help him. When Beth and Gwen finally let go and Beth handed him his crutch, the ambition in his eyes to hobble to the table by himself was clear, and Chris couldn't help but admire that.

"I think I'm getting better at walking, Dad," Tiny Cody said as he clumsily sat down in his chair. "Maybe I won't need that surgery after all."

Trent sighed, trying to give him a hopeful smile. "I sure hope so, son…"

Beth poked a spoon in the mashed potatoes and asked, "Is this it?"

Lindsay sadly sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetie. This is all the food we could afford."

"It's because of that mean old Mr. Maclean, isn't it?" Beth asked angrily. "He's too stingy to give Daddy a raise! Ooooh, I hate that grump so much!"

"Beth, don't be that way," Trent told her. "I don't think Mr. Maclean is all that he seems to be."

"What do you mean, Dad?" Tyler asked. "He seems like a jerk to me."

"It's not his fault, kids," Trent tried to convince them. "He's just… a little bitter. Maybe even lonely."

"Lonely? Bitter?!" Chris fumed, furious. "That's it, I'm docking his pay!"

"Your father has a point," Lindsay said, nodding in agreement and placing a hand over his. "I mean, think about it. He lives all by himself and he probably doesn't have any friends."

Gwen blinked. "I never thought I'd say this but… I think you're right, Mom."

Chris' anger melted a little. Lindsay's words were really getting to him, because they were true.

"Are you going to dock his pay _now_?" DJ asked, arms crossed.

"… I guess I can't dock it just because he… told the truth," Chris said with a sad sigh.

"And plus, I'll bet he doesn't have a great family like we do!" Lindsay chirped, giving Trent a quick peck on the cheek.

"Mom's right!" Tiny Cody exclaimed. "Now let's dig in!"

"We have to pray first," Trent reminded him.

"Oh, right," Tiny Cody muttered with a sheepish grin.

As the family joined hands and bowed heir heads, Chris felt this strange feeling inside of him. What was it? Was it… guilt?

"Do you see why I brought you here?" DJ asked.

"Yes," Chris sighed, feeling tears brimming in his eyes. "Is… Is Tiny Cody going to live?"

DJ looked from Chris to Tiny Cody, then back to Chris. "It's not my job to tell you yet. You'll find out soon enough."

Chris looked back at the small boy, worry on his face. He knew that probably meant the worst.

"I just hope this has taught you a thing or two," DJ told him. "They don't need a lot of money to be happy. They just need each other." He looked at the family and smiled as they started eating their meager meal, laughing at something Tyler had said.

Chris looked at them, too. They really _did_ seem happy…

"Can you honestly say you're happy, Chris?" the friendly ghost asked him.

"…No." Chris looked down at his feet. He had so much and they had so little, but they were somehow happy without money. At least they had their family. Chris was always by himself… And he pushed away anyone who tried to get closer to him.

--

With another flash, Chris was back in his room, tucked in his bed and DJ was nowhere to be seen.

--

Review, review, review please!

Next up- **Stave IV: The Last of the Spirits**


	4. Stave IV: The Last of the Spirits

Disclaimer: Must we go through this _again_?

Author's Note: This one's written by Kelsica2 with creative input from me. Merry Christmas, everyone!

--

Chris lay awake in his bed, too afraid of the ghost that was yet to come to even shut his eyes. Sure, the first two ghosts hadn't exactly been scary… But the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come was a much scarier title, so no telling how freaky this one was going to be.

The clock chimed three times, meaning it was three in the morning. After he last chime, a gust of wind blew in through the window, and Chris ducked under his sheets, like a little boy who thought there was a monster under his bed.

After a while, Chris peeked from under the covers, paling when he saw the fourth and final ghost of the night.

The ghost was of average height, though it was hard to tell due to the flowing black cloak covering him up. The only thing you really could see about his physical appearance were the strong hands poking out of the long cloak sleeves and the teal blue eyes shining brightly from behind the shadow from the hood. He was wielding a scythe, which only freaked Chris out more.

"A-Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?" Chris fearfully choked out.

The ghost said nothing.

"Dude, hello?" Chris called out, getting out of bed and slowly walking toward him. "Can you hear me?"

The spirit dug around in the pocket of his cloak, pulling out a professional-looking badge and holding it out to him. Chris squinted to read it. It said, _Duncan, The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come._

"So your name is Duncan?" Chris asked. He shrugged. "Kind of lame, but it's shorter than saying Ghost of Christmas Blah Blah Blah."

Duncan smacked him with the side of his scythe, then pointed it toward the window, signaling that they had to go.

--

The two appeared inside a top-of-the-line building, where they saw a business man and a business woman, dressed in professional-looking suits. They were looking over some official papers.

The woman looked over the papers in her hand and sighed, "Wow, the stiff had so much money. Just imagine how that would help our company!"

The man rolled his beautiful blue eyes. "Can you think about anything else but money, Courtney?"

Courtney glared at him. "Don't give me that, Justin. At least my obsession is productive. Looks get you nowhere in the business world."

Justin shrugged. "Whatever. I'm just doing this until my modeling career kicks off."

"And how many years have you been saying that?" Courtney asked with a smirk.

Justin frowned. "Sh-shut up! Let's just go to his place, take his money and get his stuff appraised already."

"Can they just take that dead dude's money?" Chris asked, no really expecting an answer. "Wait… Who's the stiff?"

No answer.

"… Duncan? Who's the-" Chris turned around to see why Duncan hadn't answered him. It was because he had started walking away and was already out of the building.

"Hey! Wait up!" Duncan stopped, not turning around, and Chris ran to catch up to him. "Why'd you just leave like that?"

No answer.

"Dude, this 'I'm all quiet and refuse to answer Chris' questions' thing is getting really old!" Chris said with a huff.

And of course, Duncan yet again said nothing. He waved his hand at him, telling him to keep walking and they walked down the sidewalk, passing several people who weren't even aware of their presence.

They came up to a house and walked right through the walls. They found a couple in their living room, sitting together on the couch and enjoying hot chocolate.

"I feel sort of bad saying this, but I'm glad that jerk of a white man is dead," the girl stated before sipping her warm drink.

"No need to feel bad, my lovely LeShawna," the geeky redhead reassured her as he wrapped his free arm around her shoulder. "He sort of had it coming to him."

LeShawna looked like she felt a little better about herself. "I guess you're right, Harold. He deserved it, the frugal miser…"

"Okay, are you going to tell me who this guy is or not?" Chris asked Duncan. "I don't like mysteries. They make my brain hurt…"

Duncan, once again, didn't say anything. He grabbed Chris by the upper arm and dragged him right outside the house.

--

Duncan and Chris appeared in the Crachit house, which perplexed Chris. "What are we doing here? I was just here like an hour ago."

The frightening spirit pointed to the living room, where the Crachits were either sobbing or looking on the verge of sobbing.

Trent and Lindsay were on the couch, with Lindsay blubbering into his chest. "M-m-my baby's g-g-_gone_!"

Beth , tears trickling behind her glasses, ran over and hugged her mother from the side. "Mama, it's gonna be okay!"

"Yeah, Ma," Ezekiel said from the dingy arm chair across the room, trying to smile for her. "He'll be fine, eh…"

"They're right, dear," Trent said in agreement, wrapping his arms tighter around her and trying not to let the tears building up in his eyes fall. "H-he's in a better place now."

"It's all that old bastard's fault!" Gwen yelled, getting up from her chair. "He could have stopped this, but he didn't!"

"Gwen's right!" Tyler said, getting up too. "I should have messed him up while I had the chance!"

"Both of you just calm down and shut up right now!" Lindsay snapped, venom in her voice. After realizing how harsh she sounded, she clung onto Trent even harder and began to sob again.

Tyler didn't look happy about it, but he did as his mother said and sat down. Gwen, on the other hand, wasn't being so obedient. She stormed over to the coat rack and angrily put her coat and scarf on. As her hand reached the doorknob, Trent finally asked her, "Gwen, where are you going?"

"To _spit _on that cheap creep's grave!" She flung the door open and left, slamming the door behind her.

Lindsay reluctant about the way she had talked to her, was getting up to go after her until Trent stopped her. "Don't. She… She just needs to blow off some steam."

Lindsay nodded and sat back down, burying her face in her hands as she continued to sob over their great loss.

"Whoa, what's up with them?" Chris asked.

Duncan silently pointed to the other side of the room.

"I don't know why I keep asking you questions," Chris said, rolling his eyes. "I mean, I know by now that you won't answer the-" He had finally turned his head around to the direction in which Duncan pointed and it made him feel like retching.

In the corner of the room, there was a small stool. Perched next to it was what really made Chris squirm. It was Tiny Cody's crutch.

"No… Don't tell me he's…"

Duncan nodded.

"They… They couldn't afford the… operation?"

Duncan nodded again.

"Oh, my God…" Chris looked at the depressed family, all of them practically wailing by this point. "I-I didn't think it would be _that _serious. I wonder who the Goth kid was so ticked at…"

Duncan motioned for Chris to come on as he passed through the wall opposite to the living room.

Chris was almost out of the house, but turned around to sadly look at the Crachit family one more time.

"I'm so sorry…"

--

The two were walking along, when something occurred to Chris. "Hey, you never told me who the dead guy was… Heck, you never told me anything."

Duncan stopped walking and Chris looked up at the sign swaying above them. They appeared to be at the entrance of a graveyard.

"Oh… I guess I'll finally get my answer… So that _is_ why were here, right? I mean, you're not like the Grim Reaper in your spare time or anything?"

Duncan smacked him in the face with his scythe again and dragged him through the graveyard. They passed several clumps of tombstones until Duncan stopped at the farthermost one. While most of the tombstones were near the ones of deceased family members, but this one was all by itself. There was a layer of snow covering it, so the name couldn't be seen.

"Since you're not going to tell me who this guy is, I guess I'll just have to see for myself, right, dude?" Chris asked the spirit.

Duncan nodded and did a snap and point.

Chris sighed as he got on his knees. "These are new pajamas and now they're gonna be covered in snow and dirt…" He wiped the snow off the tombstone slowly. His heart started to race when he saw whose name was on it.

It read **Christopher Maclean**, bright as day.

"No… I can't be dead… Not yet!" Chris tried to get up, but was shaking too hard, so he just fell back down on his butt. "Th-This can't be that far into the future…" Chris looked up at Duncan and asked, "Just tell me one thing… Are these the shadows of things that _will_ be, or are they only the shadows of things that _might_ be?"

Duncan said and did nothing. Not because he was trying to be mysterious, but because he had no idea what he just said.

Chris frowned and decided to rephrase it. "Dude, is there a chance that if I change, this crappy future won't happen?"

Duncan uttered the first sound of the night, a small "Oh," and nodded.

"I promise I'll change then!" Chris exclaimed, clinging onto Duncan's robes. "I'll be much nicer to people! Even people who really get on my nerves! I'll have the Christmas spirit every year! No! Every _day_!" Tears started streaming down his stubbly face and he pleaded, "Please, I promise! I'll change! I'll change!"

Duncan, arms crossed. didn't respond to Chris' pleas. He only sent the poor man back to his bed in the present as he continued to mumble "I'll change," in his sleep.

Duncan sighed, relieved that he was finally alone. "GOD, I can't believe I had to be quiet that whole time!"

--

Somewhere above, or below, this world, there was a small lounge-like area, complete with a couch or two, a coffee machine and counter, and a water cooler. **The Ghost of Christmas Past **and** The Ghost of Christmas Present **were relaxing on the couch, Noah drinking some coffee and DJ petting his pet bunny, Bunny, when **The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come **came in.

"Hard day, huh, sunshine?" Noah asked with a small smirk.

"Not in the mood, eggnog head," Duncan muttered as he grabbed a small cup and filled it up from the water cooler. He drank the whole thing in one gulp, the shadow of the hood making it look like he just dumped it down his cloak. "Man, it sucks I'm not allowed to talk during work. I had _soooo_ many comebacks I wanted to tell him! He was such a pain in the jingle bells."

"As cute as your little holiday play on words is," Noah started, rolling his eyes, "I suggest you stop."

Duncan shrugged. "What can I say? I'm in a Christmassy mood."

"I'm not, after having to deal with that whack job," Noah commented, putting down his coffee cup and picking up his book. "He probably won't even change and our hard work will have been all for nothing…"

"You wanna bet?" Duncan cockily asked, waving a ten dollar bill in the air.

"I'll have to take you up on that offer," Noah commented, putting his book down.

"You want in on this, DJ?" Duncan asked the friendly giant.

"Nah, gambling doesn't really seem to be in the Christmas spirit," DJ said, setting Bunny down so she could hop around. "The staff Christmas party should be starting soon, so I'm gonna get going. You guys coming?"

"Isn't it kind of early to have a party?" Noah asked.

"Well, we are ghosts," DJ said with a shrug. "We don't sleep."

Noah nodded. "Good point. Let's get going…" As the three headed out, they all couldn't help but wonder if Chris Maclean really had changed. The answer to that question would have to wait until he woke up Christmas morning…

--

Hope you liked it! One more chappie after this one :)

Next up (Last up!)- **Stave V: The End of It All**


	5. Stave V: The End of It All

Disclaimer: If we owned TDI/TDA/TDTM.... Well, let's just say things would be waaay different.

Author's Note: This is the final chapter, everyone! Written by me, creative input by Kels. Enjoy!

--

Christmas morning, Chris awoke at the crack of dawn. His heart was filled with joy and he was eager to spread Christmas cheer. Chris looked up out of his bedroom window, "Chef? You there, dude?" he called out to the sky. "Thank you... Thank you for showing me the true meaning of Christmas! Merry Christmas!"

Chris hopped out of bed, jumping up and down excitedly. He was so restless, he didn't even spend his usual hour on his hair. He rushed downstairs and ran outside.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" Chris yelled. "MERRY, MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

"Would you mind? Some people are trying to sleep here!" a neighbor called out from their house, throwing a sock in Chris's face.

"A sock for me? Eva, you're too kind!" Chris exclaimed.

"Oh, shut up!" Eva snapped before shutting her window and going back to sleep.

Chris rushed down the street, shaking hands and wishing every perfect stranger a merry Christmas.

Chris then proceeded to pull out his wallet and toss money everywhere. "Harold? HAROLD!" Chris exclaimed as he saw the redhead on the other side of the street. "Good to see you, dude! Have some donations!" Chris handed Harold his wallet.

"Um... Okay?" Harold replied, not really sure what was going on, "Are you feeling alright, Mr. Maclean?"

"Of course! I feel GREAT!" Chris yelled, skipping down the street, "And Harold, Merry Christmas!!"

"...Weirdest day ever," Harold muttered before walking off.

--

"The Crachits!" Chris exclaimed, talking to himself, "I have to do something nice for them...."

"Are you talking to yourself, Mister?" a kid asked Chris, looking at him quizically.

"Maybe..." Chris replied, "Hey, kiddo. Can you do something for me?"

"Uh... No thanks," the kid answered, about to walk away.

"I'll pay you!" Chris added, pulling out his second wallet.

"Is this a joke? You're Mr. Maclean, the meanest man in town!"

"I've changed! I really have!" Chris said, pleading. "Okay, you know that GIANT turkey in the window of the butcher's shop?"

"The really, really, _really _big one?" the kid asked, his eyes wide.

"Yup! That one!" Chris nodded vigorously. "Buy that and bring it here! I'll pay you when you get back!"

The kid grinned, "How about you give me an advance instead?"

Chris sighed, "Here, kid, I don't have any change. Take his hundred," Chris shoved the green bill in his face.

"Whoa, thanks!"

"Just deliver the turkey to Trent Crachit's house, kay?" Chris asked. He lowered his voice, "And don't tell them I sent it!"

"Yes, sir!" and with that, the boy was off.

--

Chris's next stop was his nephew's place.

"Uncle Chris?" Owen said incredulously as he opened up the door.

"Hey, kiddo!" Chris ruffled Owen's hair. "Let me in! These bags are heavy!" Chris exclaimed, motioning to the large, numerous giftbags in his arms.

Owen stepped aside and ushered Chris in. "So what's the occasion?" Owen asked, scratching his head.

"Christmas, of course!" Chris cried.

"You mean you came for the party?!" Owen exclaimed. He jumped up and down like a schoolgirl. "Yay!"

"And I brought presents!" Chris added.

"PRESENTS!?" everyone at the party who hadn't been paying attention to Chris and Owen asked, suddenly realizing the gifts in Chris's hands.

"Yup!" Chris said excitedly. "But... None of the stores were open... Except Staples! So I got everyone OFFICE SUPPLIES!" Chris started tossing notebooks and pens, rulers and binders. Poor Owen got sent through the floor by a photocopier.

After the gift exchange, Chris enjoyed a nice warm cup of hot chocolate and even told Christmas stories to the younger ones. But amongst all this Christmas cheer, a certain person caught his eye. A certain brunette ex-fiancee.

"Lena? Is that really you?" Chris asked softly. She was well into her forties, with soft wrinkles and crow's feet around her eyes. Except for that, she looked just like she did years ago.

Lena nodded weakly, "I saw everything Chris... You're such a great guy... What happened?" she asked softly.

Chris chuckled, "I got visited by three annoying ghosts."

Lena giggled, "Is that why you came to the party?"

"Yup," Chris replied. "I learned the true meaning of Christmas.... But, what are you doing here?"

Lena smiled softly, "Owen and Izzy invite me every year..."

Just then, it hit him. Chris realized that he'd never been to a single one of Owen and Izzy's Christmas parties. This was the very first time he had even stepped into their house.

"Well, I'll let you get back to spreading Christmas cheer," Lena told him stepping away. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Chris smiled warmly at her.

--

The very next morning, Chris arrived at work promptly at 8'o'clock. Trent Crachit, however, did not.

When Trent arrived at work, Chris feigned anger. "Trent! You are EIGHTEEN AND A HALF minutes late!"

Trent paled, "Oh, sir! I'm so sorry! I must have lost track of time! I didn't get to bed last night until late. We had the greatest Christmas at our house..."

"Christmas! Bah!" Chris said, pretending to be disgusted.

"Mr. Maclean, I'm so sorry! I'll make it up to you! I'll stay extra late tonight! I'll never be late again! In fact, I'll work double and not even-" Trent's pleas were cut short by Chris's jolly laughter.

Chris laughed and laughed and laughed, holding his sides. When he finally composed himself, he wiped a tear from his eye, "Trent, you didn't believe any of that crap, did you?"

"Wh-Huh?" Trent asked, confused.

Chris chuckled, "I was just kidding! Dude, you're the best clerk I could ever ask for. That's why I had that turkey sent over to your place last night."

"That was you?" Trent asked incredulously, in a whisper.

"You betcha!" Chris exclaimed. "And that's also why I'm doubling -no, tripling- your pay! Merry Christmas, Trent!"

Trent couldn't find words, "Wow. Thank you so much!"

"No problem," Chris replied, "Be sure to buy something nice for that wife of yours," he added, "And if you ever need anything, _anything_... For you, your wife, or Tiny Cody... Just ask, 'kay dude?"

"Wow, um," Trent said, still at a loss for words, "Wow. Thank you, Mr. Maclean. Thank you so much!"

"Call me Chris, Trent."

"Thank you... Chris. Merry Christmas," Trent shook his hand, oozing with excitement and gratefulness.

--

Somewhere above, or below, this world, the many spirits of every holiday known to man (and them some) were congregated. Among these spirits, where **The Ghost of Christmas Past,** **The Ghost of Christmas Present**, and **The Ghost of Christmas Future**.

"What'd I tell you? Huh?" Duncan chuckled.

Noah was not amused, "You got lucky, Duncan."

"Yeah, yeah. That's what you always say," Duncan rolled his eyes.

Noah pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it Duncan, "Happy?"

"Very," Duncan replied.

"Whatever," Noah rolled his eyes. "...I hope you know that the _only _reason he repented was because **I** made him revisit his painful and somewhat disturbing childhood memories."

"Umm, what? I think you mean... The only reason he repented was because **I** took him to a HORRIBLE and totally fabricated future," Duncan corrected.

"Guys, guys," DJ stepped in, "I think you mean, the only reason he repented was because **I** showed him the heartbreaking state of the poor, ol' Crachit family."

"HA!" Noah laughed, "That did nothing! You shoulda seen the way he was crying when I was done with him!"

"You should have seen how pale Maclean was, shaking with FEAR when I was through with him!" Duncan shot back

"You think you're so cool, don't you?" Noah mocked, "Mr. Dark and Scary, cloak-wearing 'Don't show my face or any other part of my except for my hand because I'm-"

"Coming from the guy wearing a nightgown," Duncan cut Noah off.

"Guys, it's Christmas," DJ intervened. "Can't we all come to together? And stop arguing? What's the point of you two fighting over whose best?" Duncan and Noah muttered in agreement before DJ added, "Cuz I mean, everybody knows that Present's_ where it's at_!"

"Hey!" Duncan and Noah exclaimed at the same time.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that," DJ continued, "We all helped make Chris see the errors of his ways. We showed him the real meaning of Christmas- Spreading joy and happiness. We changed him. We helped _a lotta _people. And doesn't that make us all the best?" DJ asked.

"That was so beautiful," Duncan sniffled, wiping a tear from his eye.

"But I'm still the best," Noah stated.

"What are you talking about, eggnog-head?" Duncan cried. "I was the scariest, therefore, the _best_."

DJ sighed. He shrugged, "At least I tried, Bunny. At least I tried," he told Bunny.

--

And so, Chris Maclean stayed true to his word, helping the Crachit family and becoming like a second father to Tiny Cody, who actually did not die as predicted by Duncan's ominous vision. Many of the townsfolk were rather puzzled by Maclean's sudden change in heart, but Chris merely laughed off their doubts and suspicions. Chris ended up with Lena and managed to incorporate Christmas spirit in every day. He respected lessons of Christmas more than any other person alive. And so, as Tiny Cody observed,

"God bless us, Every one."

--

The End! Hope you've enjoyed it! Thanks for reading, everyone :)


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